Into the Fire
by yarnandahalfspinner
Summary: It was Molly Hooper not John that was placed in the bonfire. Prompt from BeckyRose.
1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper felt bad. She shouldn't because she was engaged and not a detective anyway so why would she have ever had another answer. _Because he asked._ Her subconscious nagged. Yes she would have before Tom, she would have dropped everything and run off with him regularly if he asked. If he asked she still may have gone. Sherlock had changed though. He didn't ask. He told her he was happy for her and he left her there, stalking away like the frustrating man that he was. She shook her head clear of these thoughts as she turned towards home.

"Excuse me," a man said with an American accent, "I think I got turned around can you help me figure out this map?"

"Of course," she smiled brightly. Molly Hooper lived to help people.

He came closer and held out the map but reached his other hand out with something else. She felt the needle prick and was out before she understood what was happening.

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Molly woke up in a brushwood prison. She tried to make herself know but she was bound and gagged securely. _Sherlock _she thought _Sherlock will come._ After five minutes she began to panic though. Yup that's all it took five minutes for tears to be streaming down her face with a sore throat from screams that were never heard. _One case, _she rebuked herself with despair, _one case Molly Hooper and you are already the damsel in distress._ Then she decided that she would not give up. She was stronger than this and if she failed it couldn't be worse than the hell she was in right now. Then she smelled the flames.

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Sherlock walked down the street leaving Molly behind. Being alive was almost as much work as being dead and almost as painful. John had a mean right hook. Why did people move on? He was happy the way things were. Why did they feel like change was needed? John he understood to a degree, he thought he was dead. Molly knew he was alive though so why did she need change? He was happy she was happy but he didn't like change.

He decided to eat for once so he stopped for French fries. He walked in the door to see Mary and John looking ill at ease. Maybe John has come to, nope he is still mad, ne her is here because something is wrong.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he asked.

"She is taking her soothers," Mary told him.

"Lestrade?"

"No Sherlock they are all fine. It's Molly. It may be nothing but she didn't show up and we were supposed to go out with her tonight. Mary thought she may be with you but now we know that…" John trailed off.

Just then a text came in. Sherlock stared for a minute at his phone then dropped his food and ran out into the street. He looked up the street before stepping into traffic.

"Sherlock!" John yelled but he put his hand up and stopped a motorcycle.

The detective turned around and held up his phone.

"It's a skip pattern!" Mary exclaimed earning her a glance from both men.

"Yes and now unless we hurry Molly will die."

Sherlock jumped on the motorcycle taking the helmet from the man and Mary jumped on behind him.

"John bring the car around I don't think we'll all fit," she smiled.

They took off leaving a baffled John Watson behind. Sherlock vaguely realized something was different about Mary, he noticed that by allowing her to ride with him he was putting up with more tactile sensory data than he was used to, he knew he had left a friend who he was attempting to reconcile with I the dust but now it didn't matter. The only thing Sherlock Holmes focused on was getting to Molly Hooper. He rode as if the hounds of hell were after him and tried not to be distracted by the antagonizing texts he was receiving.

"Oh my gosh," he saw the campfire.

Abandoning Mary he flew towards the light pushing towards where he knew his pathologist would be.

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Molly struggled in her thorny cell desperate to escape the smoke that was beginning to fill her lungs. She thrashed with all she could wishing just someone would pay attention to her or the screaming kid she was pretty sure saw her. There were people all around. She could hear their voices but they didn't know she was here. _Great,_ she thought, _all my life I have been invisible. Why should I die any different? Surrounded by people but no one sees little Molly Hooper._ She wished Sherlock would come, she wished Tom would come, she wished anyone would come but somewhere inside her as the oxygen started becoming harder and harder to find told her she was going to die.

She felt lighter fluid drip down her leg and a second later an intense burning. Oh no, she was going to die slowly! Tears came again but she stilled as she heard a voice.

"Move. Move. Move. Molly!" it cried anguish evident in the fact that his usual baritone was slightly higher pitched. Suddenly hope came anew and she struggled to get to his voice but all her struggling did was knock a branch down and the world went black.

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Sherlock tore with his bare hands through the fire. The heat scalded his hands but he kept going for what seemed like an eternity until he saw a small figure at the bottom. He grabbed under her arms and pulled her out. He pulled her into his arms so she was lying on his lap her head falling to the side of his arms. He was holding her with one arm using the other to desperately search for a pulse and mutter promises he knew he could never keep. He was frantically feeling at her neck and wrist as Mary begged him for information. He made promises that he would follow lab rules, that he would let her live her life in peace, that she would never have to see him again if she just looked at him one more time but try as he might he couldn't find a pulse.

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Hands, strong hands were under her arms. She was floating and it felt nice but something anchored her somewhere else. Those hands. Then things got loud so many voices she wished she could just tell them to go away.

"Someone call the medics!"

"Is she okay? Sherlock! Is she okay?"

"Oh hi Mary!" she tried to say but her mouth wasn't cooperating, "yes I am just fine. Just floating here."

Then another voice shook her, "Molly," she felt the vibrations of someone's voice hit her chest, "Molly I promise I won't ask for another body part again. I will follow hospital policy. I will complement your horrible style of clothes. I will never take you on a case again. Molly I will leave again if you want. Just tell me what you want Molly. I will do anything just come back to me."

She wanted to laugh. That was Sherlock! He was promising to follow rules? Why though was everyone so worried? Ah that was right the fire. She should go to them and tell them she was okay. It was just so comfortable here though. No, she couldn't let them worry.

With that thought she stirred and pain coursed through her body.

"Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed and she felt him hug her. She giggled.

"You came for me," she smiled.

"I will always come for you Molly Hooper."

"You said you would go away why would you say that? Sherlock don't leave," she almost began to cry but he shushed her by placing a kiss on her forehead, then her cheek, then her hair. He left feather light kisses all over the crown of her head and she relaxed even with the pain. Then she realized he wasn't really kissing her hair anymore but his face was still pressed there and he was muttering.

"Molly, I am so sorry. Don't ever do that again, Molly. Don't you ever do that again."

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She took in a large breath as she fluttered her eyes open and Sherlock would have done it all again to protect that moment. He pulled her still weak body up and into his chest in a tight embrace and she giggled. Giggled. After almost, no after having no pulse she looks up and giggled. Then she told him not to leave and it broke what people would considered the remaining soiled heart he had left. He thought she would be angry or blame him but she didn't. He should have known better after all this was Molly they were talking about. He pressed his lips to her forehead out of relief, then again on her cheek, he felt that if he stopped she would slip away so he feathered some into her hair. Then he couldn't stop it in any case and her told her to not to leave him ever again as tears slipped out and soaked her hair.

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Molly felt the moisture and wondered at it. She had never seen him cry not even two years ago when he arranged his own death. She looked up at Mary, who had just turned to calm John down as her fiancé had just arrived, and smiled. The woman smiled back relief in her eyes. John stepped forward and put a hand on Sherlock's arm.

"I need to take a look at her," he commanded Sherlock away but the man just moved so the doctor could assess her leaving her settled against his chest.

His warmth was welcome. It was so much better than the burn of the fire or the bite of the cold and it reassured her. Even when the medics came Sherlock kept hold of her hand even through the ride to the hospital. He only let go when they forced him away and carted her through the doors of the hospital.

She didn't see him for two days but she understood. He explained the case of the terrorist when he showed up with takeout boxes and chopsticks. She had been cleared at the hospital and prescribed rest which was driving her up the wall. She was always an active person and bed rest disagreed with her. In a particularly Sherlock moment she looked at the ceiling and yelled.

"BORED!"

"Well," a voice made her jump. She turned to see a smirking Sherlock holding the takeout, "I may be of use then."

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Sherlock and Molly sat crisscross on the floor slurping noodles. He slurped one and she giggled. He ignored her but took a particularly gross bite after that. She laughed again and he joined in with a chuckle too. Oh it was good just to hear her laugh again. After breaking the ice she asked how the case went. He was happy to share.

"So John forgave you then," Molly inquired.

"Yes, and Tom left why?" her eyes filled with tears and he immediately regretted his harsh words.

"I, um, well, I didn't mean that, um," he didn't know how to fix these situations, damn it, that is what he had John for.

"No it is okay he just. We left friends it's just, the whole kidnapping thing shook him up. He said he didn't want such a complicated life."

"Molly," Sherlock said carefully, "If it means you being happy I will go. I told you that when you were, um, temporarily gone," his voice strained, "and I will keep to it."

Molly leaned forward and grabbed his hands.

"No you look here," she started passionately, "You are my friend and I want you in my life! I don't care that it is complicated. I would be bored without it and what is the use of that?"

Sherlock was surprised he had never seen this confident Molly before. He nodded. Then chuckled.

"You sound like me," he laughed.

She faked horror putting her hand to her forehead, "No it can't be!"

They ate in comfortable company and it was late when she walked Sherlock to the door,

"Thank you Sherlock," Molly said quietly.

He was confused, "What for?"

"Oh you know saving me, watching over me, dinner."

"Oh" it clicked, "So this was good?"

"Yes," she laughed, "It was very good."

"Well then I hope I alleviated some of the boredom I know it can be tedious."

He went to leave but paused a moment and turned to her. He bent down and kissed her softly and chastely on the lips surprising her. Then he pressed his head against hers.

"I find it fortunate you are alive Molly Hooper," he whispered then left with a dramatic flourish.

_**A/N I may or may not add an extra chapter or two but in any case reviews are appreciated. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N So I was overwhelmed by the love this story got. First I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. Prince-Slytherin, Silkenslay, Renaissancebooklover108, The Wolf, Beside Moonlight, BeckyRose, SammyKatz, Adayuki, Eienvine, EllieAllenPoe (Who's name I adore by the way), lovebirds413, and Croony83 THANK YOU! I got a lot of request to continue so I shall. I probably won't write but three or four chapters but we will see where it ends up. I have an idea for at least the next one. I also can't promise when I will post. I am in the process of another story and don't want to get behind. Anyways, without further ado… **_

_Well,_ Molly thought, _that was unexpected._ Sherlock Holmes had just kissed her. She struggled to get her thoughts in order but gave up and just collapsed on the couch with a squee. Did she want this? Well of course she had been enamored with the man since they met but she had just broken an engagement and was gaining confidence around the man. Not to mention the man himself. He was gorgeous, and smart, talented, protective, he could even be sweet if he put his mind to it. _Not to mention socially awkward, rude, childish, difficult, and arrogant, _her mind argued. Maybe he just didn't understand the social convention of kissing but that was doubtful. He didn't understand sentiment but he was not ignorant. Tonight she wouldn't worry about it though so she quieted her mind and sunk into the couch, too lazy to move to her room before she fell asleep. If one were to see her they might wonder why the woman looked so happy in her sleep, fingers subconsciously placed on her lips.

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Sherlock took the long way back to Baker Street. He honestly didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing. He just was relieved to hear her laugh and see her smile again and he just felt like he should tell her. When he turned around though his lips didn't say what he wanted to until after they did what they wanted. He was married to his work though and he liked it like that. In the time before his jump he had become used to company and during the time he was away he became aware of the fact that he even enjoyed having friends. Mycroft didn't understand but he was lonely no matter what he said. The rest of the world couldn't understand either however, this feeling, sentiment, wasn't natural to him. Was he expected to pursue her now? He smirked because he knew he didn't have to. Yes, Molly Hooper would follow him if he asked her. Would she be hurt though if he didn't? He hoped not. He didn't want to cause the woman pain. In truth he had never meant to he just didn't realize his not good moments until they passed. He was impulsive nut not cruel. _Yet another reason to stay away_, he told himself, _If you claim Molly how long will it be until you hurt her? You can protect her from others but can you protect her from yourself. _He knew he was right. He would hurt the woman and he wouldn't even realize it. He couldn't so that. It would really be the death of him to lose his pathologist but even worse he couldn't stand the thought of hurting her. No, he would have to think of something else.

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As it turns out neither had anything to worry about. Molly didn't bring it up and neither did Sherlock. They both seemed happy remaining as they were. Secure in the knowledge that the other was still there. Yet they became a little more than they were before. Molly was a bit more outspoken and not afraid to put Sherlock in his place. She tried to get him what he needed for experiments but not because she couldn't say no but because she liked to help him. She challenged Sherlock with research when he was bored and always kept a cold case that Lestrade stocked her on hand. In return Sherlock tried harder to maintain some schedule in coming to see her so she wasn't left wondering when he would be in or having to stay late if he could help it. Molly also became the only person Sherlock allowed to talk during his thinking spells and Sherlock learned to become a confidant for Molly. Some may have thought this strange but Molly was happy to have someone to talk to and the fact that he often tuned her out didn't bother her. It just made the times he responded special. The only one who really seemed to notice was John. Mary insisted it was the shock of almost losing Molly but John had a sneaking suspicion his best friend was up to something. All in all things were going pretty wee. Of course that didn't mean everything was perfect.

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A few days after the attack Molly Hooper sat dumbfounded. Apparently no one had seen it necessary to tell her that she HAD DIED.

"What do you mean he couldn't find a pulse?" an ash faced Molly asked Mary at lunch.

Mary had come to see the recuperating pathologist and to relay the entire episode from her point of view.

"Um, didn't he tell you?" she asked, "I mean the man was hysterical when he was checking you. He was even crying."

"He?" she pursed her lips, "Oh! You mean Sherlock. I remember him crying when I woke up but if he was hysterical maybe he missed something."

Mary hmmed but they both knew Sherlock Holmes didn't make mistakes. Not on finding pulses in any case.

"Mary! I am freaking out here! Tell me I am crazy or something! Should I have , I don't know, seen bright lights or something?"

"Did you?" Mary asked.

She scrunched her face, "I don't know. It's all kind of fuzzy. I just remember that I didn't feel the pain until I opened my eyes."

"Well you're not dead now," a deep voice made her jump.

"Sherlock!" Mary scolded, "I thought we talked about picking the locks on our friends' doors."

"I didn't pick her lock," he smirked.

"Really then how did you-" Mary caught sight of the open window, "You are the worst," she gave up.

"Sherlock," Molly said desperately, "Why didn't you tell me I died?"

He looked genuinely confused, "I didn't think it was important."

"You didn't think me dying was important?" she was on the verge of tears.

"No, no, I didn't mean that I-" he looked to Mary for help.

"Well Molls I have to go back to work. I just leave you guys to it shall I?" she smirked at Sherlock on her way out.

"You are picking up your husband's speech pattern," he tried only to receive a, "Laters!" from Mary already halfway down the stairs.

He turned to see Molly crying on the couch. Molly knew he was uncomfortable with emotions but she didn't care. She also knew that he didn't mean any offence to come from his words but right now she was just hurt and confused.

"Molly Hooper," he said softly sitting on the far edge of the couch away from her, "I am sorry."

"Oh I know," she said shrilly, "I am just being silly. I just can't believe I was dead!"

She continued crying hiding her face in her hands before she felt the couch shift. A large hand came down on top of her shoulder several times rather awkwardly. She looked up to see a very uncomfortable Sherlock. She giggled.

He froze affronted leaving his hand on her shoulder, "Molly Hooper are you laughing at me?"

"I don't know," she countered, "Are you patting my back?"

They stared at each other for a minute before laughing. Molly a girly giggle and Sherlock a low chuckle. He finally relaxed a bit and slumped back against the couch.

"Sherlock why are you here?" she asked.

"I was told that social convention required one to check up on their friends when they were sick or injured as well as when they break off a long term engagement." Ouch.

"Did social convention also state that you come in through said friend's window when the buzzer works just fine?"

He smirked, cheeky know it all, "I improvised."

"I am fine Sherlock. A little shocked at the recent news but fine. As for Tom," she sighed heavily, "I he just wasn't ready for adventure in his life and I wasn't ready to give it up. Do you know how hard it is to find a man who won't judge my job or my penchant for the exciting? Although to be honest I like exciting cases from inside my lab than under a brushfire."

"Don't make jokes Molly," he quipped but she laughed at her own joke anyways.

"Aha! It must have been the phosphate Molly! Oh how could I have missed it?" He stood and made for the window. Honestly why couldn't the man just use a door for once?

"Sherlock Holmes!" she laughed, "You didn't hear a word I said did you? Why did you come if you were working on a case?"

Stepping out the window he poked his head back in through for a second, "I just needed to hear you talk, Molly. Your voice is," he paused contemplating, "calming."

She stopped chuckling and stared into his intense eyes for a moment and if looks could kill this one could probably push you against a wall and snog you senseless. Then the moment was over.

"Well I am off to catch a killer. Thank you Molly Hooper," he said a record speed then disappeared into the afternoon.

She was silent for a minute then laughed outright. He was such a difficult and endearing man.

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_What are you doing!_ Sherlock's mind yelled at him after he left Molly's flat that day.

_Well _he replied _I am currently going to tell Lestrade that I discovered yet another murderer then I am going to go experiment on those eyeballs Molly gave me. _

_Smart ass _his consciousness told him and he smirked to himself, _I meant what are you doing with Molly Hooper? We discussed that this will only hurt both of you._

_No, _he corrected himself, _one there is no we. I am you and vice versa so you should be agreeing with me. Two I decided that a relationship would hurt us. This is fine._

_Yeah, _his mind sneered at him, _you really are crazy if you think that flirting with the girl won't lead where you said we wouldn't go._

_I am not flirting! _He yelled quietly, _and there is no we! I merely can concentrate better with her there because I am used to the atmosphere of the lab._

_Whatever you say! _His mind snarked as a parting shot.

"That is what I say," he muttered this time aloud getting some strange looks from the officers around him. Oh, so he did make it to Scotland Yard. With that realization he pushed his thoughts aside and didn't think about it until months later.

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"Okay Sherlock," John told him, "You have to walk with Janine down the aisle but Mary thinks she will be off chasing men as soon as she can so I doubt you will have to entertain long."

"What about Molly?" Sherlock responded and John bit down a smirk.

"Mary wanted Molly with you but she doesn't want Molly to be overwhelmed and Molly said she would be fine sitting with Greg."

Sherlock made a face, "Why can't I sit with them?"

"Because you are the best man and the best man sits with the wedding party."

Sherlock grumbled but acquiesced.

"Anyways," John added, "you will have plenty of time after to dance with her."

"I don't dance," Sherlock huffed sulkily.

"You taught me to dance!"

"I taught you to waltz. I doubt there will be such refinery with your relatives present. I mean have you looked and the handwriting on your great uncle?"

"Sherlock last month I walked into see you dancing to a Maroon 5 song," John smirked.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "That was research."

"No it wasn't."

"Fine but I wouldn't have found it if I weren't looking for napkin displays for your table set."

John laughed Sherlock reluctantly joined in.

"So then you will dance next week. No excuses. I won't have anyone, even the great Sherlock Holmes, not dancing at my wedding."

Sherlock sighed. This was going to be interesting.

_**Reviews are love! Reading my story is love! There are other things but really you didn't even take me out to dinner! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N So I am back and it's not the end yet so stick around! THANK YOU for all the amazing reviews, follows and favorites. I love you all and am feeling the love here. **_

Molly dressed in yellow because it was a happy color and it was a happy occasion. She did remember to keep low on the make up this time remembering that horrible Christmas years ago but resolutely wore the bow.

"Why do you have this?" Sherlock had asked her the day before as he surprised her in her flat.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed putting down her shopping, "Why are you here?"

"The wedding is tomorrow," he said simply, his voice carrying from the other room as he threw out a lumpy jumper, "Honestly Molly we need to get you a new wardrobe"

He emerged from her room holding an extra-large shirt and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Sherlock," she squealed grabbing the garment, "Why are you going through my bed clothes?"

"The wedding is tomorrow I am picking out your clothes," he disappeared back into her room leaving her shocked behind.

"I already have an outfit picked out," she protested.

"Yes the yellow dress. It is too cheery."

"It's supposed to be cheery it's a wedding."

She heard silence from the other room. Sighing she put the last of the grocery away she went to evict him from her room.

"Sherlock," she started, "I am perfectly capable of- oh, um."

Molly blushed furiously as she caught sight of Sherlock holding one of his shirts with raised eyebrows.

"You left it here."

"You slept in it."

"It's really nice material," she argued protective of the navy blue shirt.

She swiped it from his hands and hugged it to her.

"It is mine now," she said petulantly shrugging it on over her outfit.

"Okay," he had an amused smile on his face, "It suits you anyways."

She gaped at him but he had already turned away, "Put on the dress."

"What?"

"The yellow dress. I want to see it. Put it on and show me."

"Why?"

"Because I am the best man and I need to make sure the outfits of Mary's friends are acceptable."

She full on laughed at him and he frowned but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Go put it on," he commanded.

"Um, Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"You are in my room."

It was his turn to blush and he quickly muttered his apology before absconding to the living room. Molly giggled and quickly changed even tying her hair back in the bow. She walked out and Sherlock stared apparently lost in his mind palace. She sighed, sitting beside him to wait for a response.

"Molly!" he coughed as soon as she sat down, "The dress is um, acceptable, um, for the wedding," he cleared his throat and she giggled.

"Thank you Sherlock," feeling brave she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

He blushed again but barely perceptible with just a faint pink high on his cheekbones.

"For goodness sake though," he said jumping up, "Don't wear those ridiculous bows in your hair."

"I like my bows," she protested.

"They make you look childish," he told her grabbing his coat.

She stuck her tongue out at him as he left with a smirk.

SHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHMHSHSo here she was with a big yellow bow in her hair and Sherlock glaring at it as he walked down the aisle with, what was her name, Janine. The wedding was very nice and Sherlock's speech was heartfelt and exciting, something she never thought he was capable of (well the first one at least.) She shuddered to think what Tom would have said if he was still with her. He would have hated the thrill of the chase but tried to participate anyways. She loved the man once but she had to admit he wasn't the smartest. He probably would have come up with something ridiculous from those sci-fi books he used to read, meat dagger or something equally ridiculous. So here she was now sitting at the table watching Sherlock as he played his violin. She probably should have been watching the bride and groom but she couldn't rip her eyes away from the man whose music was making goosebumps rise on her arms. The music ended but her eyes remained as he talked with the happy couple. His face showed the strain of watching his best friend move on and she could see the sadness in his eyes. He turned and she though he was going to leave but before his eyes hit the door they landed on her.

"Molly," he nodded approaching her, "I thought I told you no bow."

"Yes," she said seriously, "I considered it for a moment but then I realized what you were going to be wearing and decided not to take advice about head accessories from you."

He opened his mouth in shock then to the surprise of Molly laughed. Loud.

"Oh my gosh," Greg Lestrade shouted over the music, "Sherlock I don't think I have ever seen you smile. Hey everyone Sherlock Holmes here laughs."

Sherlock immediately remembered himself and scowled, "I see you have found the open bar Graham."

Lestrade just laughed, "Molly do you know I have known this bloke for over a decade and he still can't remember my name?"

Molly giggled and Sherlock grabbed her hand, "Come on Molly."

"Where are we going?"

"I have been told social convention dictates you dance at weddings."

Her eyes went wide, "Oh."

He led her out to dance to some waltz that she would have tripped over had not Sherlock been guiding her. _This is nice,_ she thought as she relaxed into him_, just dancing at a wedding and not being afraid of falling_. It was a feeling she didn't have often and not just on the dance floor. They had made their way to the middle of the dance floor when the music changed abruptly. They both turned their heads to see John Watson and his new bride whispering to the DJ. Mary turned to Sherlock and Molly and gave a big thumbs up with a wink. Molly heard Sherlock groan as he heard the pop music blast out.

"We don't have to-" she started but he adjusted his stance for the change in pace and started to dance with her.

_All that is beautiful,_ she thought as he pulled her with him,_ the man can move, like really move_. All hopes of being casual around the man fled her mind as he danced with her. He was an almost aggressive dancer, as if he was claiming her in front of the crowd. She heard someone give a drunken whoop and turned to see John before Sherlock redirected her attention to him by pressing closer to her to avoid another couple. She was just glad Lestrade was too far gone to think of videotaping this. The song ended and Molly found that they had made it back to the side of the dance floor.

"Sherlock," she yelled over the music, "I am going to go get a drink."

He nodded and followed her to the bar.

"You didn't have to stop because I did," she told him.

He looked over the glass at her as he drank, "Who else would I have danced with?"

"Janine looks like she would have liked a dance."

"Yes," he sighed, "I suppose I should as I plan to pursue her romantically."

Molly choked a little on her drink, "What!?" she laughed, "Sherlock Holmes actually pursuing a relationship?"

She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. On one hand the man of her dreams was telling her about pursuing another woman but on the other hand at least it was an improvement.

"Don't be ridiculous as it turns out she is the secretary for a very dangerous man."

"Sherlock Holmes!" Molly protested, "Don't you dare use that woman's feelings against her."

"Should I then let the vilest person I have ever met continue to manipulate the world around him?"

"Is he bad?" Molly whispered.

Sherlock couldn't hear her and pulled her to her feet and out the nearest door to the garden. They started walking through the garden. Molly realized that he didn't let go of her hand but when she moved to take it back he didn't let go so she just went with it.

"The music drowned your voice," he told her simply.

"I asked if he was bad."

"Yes," he sighed, "Worse than most murderers and kidnappers I have faced. Even the government resist pursuing him due to his reach."

"Can't you talk to her without using her?"

Sherlock groaned letting her hand go to run it through his hair, "I could do a number of other things but there is a higher probability of her tipping her boss off. This is the best way. There is no second chance. If I am t do this this is the most sensible way."

"But," Molly tried to find a flaw with his reasoning, "what about her? Sherlock you don't have affection for her."

"Of course not," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "The only one I have affection for is you."

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_SHUT UP!, his mind started screaming at him, Mouth I did not authorize you to say that_.

_That's because I did_, his heart yelled back.

_Oh for goodness sake, _his mind cried, _I thought we got rid of you a while back._

Sherlock just ignored the internal dialogue as Molly Hooper gaped at him.

"Anyways," he started to stutter out.

"No, Sherlock you can't just glaze over that comment!" she huffed.

"What then would you have me say?" he was genuinely confused.

"Oh I don't know. You are right let's just forget about it."

"No," _Oh great now you're being persistent, _"What do I say Molly Hooper? That you beguile me? That you confuse me? That I want to be a normal citizen for the first time so I could pursue you?"

He knew he should shut up but he was on a role now, color rising to his cheeks as he paced.

"That I find you endearing? Talented? Should I tell you that my affection stays with you even though I still plan to pursue another woman in order to manipulate her? What Molly, what am I to say?

When he finally gambled a look at her he thought he would find her with eyes full of tears but instead he turned to find her almost angry. _Look what you did,_ his mind chastised. _She's kinda cute like this,_ his heart wagered. _Shut up_, Sherlock yelled at them both.

"Now you look here!" Molly turned on him, "I am, I am not afraid of you Sherlock Holmes and what in the world made you think that I would want you to be normal? You can't just tell a woman these things and expect her not to wonder things," she blushed.

"Molly," Sherlock cried exasperated, "I would be poison to you! I am an addict and once I start something I don't let go easily. I am rude and selfish and inconsiderate and-"

"Don't you think I know this!" she bit back, mad Molly was quite fierce (_and amazing_) (_Shut up!_), "You are also brilliant and can be sweet and beautifully passionate!"

Passionate? Alright if she wanted passionate he could show her that. In a moment he closed the space between them and placed his hands on either side of her face, pressing his lips to hers. This time it wasn't a chaste, sweet kiss. He poured all his frustration and affection and adoration and just plain want into the kiss. When he felt his lungs burn for air he pulled away having somehow found her fingers in his hair. He lifted his hands as well pulling out the ribbon from her ponytail.

"I told you not to wear the bow," he whispered with his forehead pressed against hers so he felt the smirk that followed his words.

_**:) I love you all! Leave a review if you liked it! **_

"


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks to everyone reading this story still. I have gotten so much love for this it's ridiculous. I did say this would be tetchy on the updates didn't I? Well I am back. I am not sure when the next chapter will be up but it shouldn't take as long this time. I think the next will be the last or maybe two. Anyways enjoy! **_

They had decided to put off a romantic relationship until after the fling with Janine. After all Moly would not be the woman on the side and Sherlock Holmes had no intention of hiding the relationship once it became official and, he had assured her, it would become official. Still it was better this way. The months had passed and they had formed an alliance of sorts, a friendship. It was the sort of thing a relationship could be built on. Something more than grand declarations of love and secret garden snogging sessions although, Molly thought with a blush, those did have their benefits.

It hadn't been easy though. Many nights Sherlock crept away from Janine only to end up in her spare room or well her room. They agreed he needed the space. She had an inkling of a suspicion that he had expected her to give in and share the bed with him because when she moved her pillows to the guest room he pouted for a week. Yes, he was still a child at times but more of the type of child you laugh and hug than the kind you remind yourself not to use corporal punishment on. He retreated to his mind palace nine out of ten times he came at night although he kept her updated on the case which was a relief. She knew almost all the details. Almost.

Which brought her to where she was now. Slap. Slap. Slap.

"How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry."

All present did a double take at the woman who was red in the face with bright eyes and a stinging hand. When the group left she sagged at her desk with her face in her hands.

"How much longer is this going to take?" she groaned to the presence in the room.

"Hopefully it will be wrapped up tonight. You hit harder than expected."

"You said make it look convincing," she chuckled, "and I have been wanting to do that for a while."

"Yes, well it was that. You are an admiral actor Dr. Hooper. Not to mention adversary."

"and don't you forget it."

Molly felt larger hands envelop her own and pull them from her face. When they were removed she found herself peering into bright blue orbs.

"Tonight Molly, then the rest of time."

"Sherlock Holmes you be careful!"

He smiled a dazzling smile, "Where would be the fun in that? I have to go John thinks I am apologizing after his 'not good' speech."

Molly laughed at the face he made but wasn't about to let him get away with the last word.

"Sherlock," she stated innocently making him narrow his eyes at her, "You look good dressed down."

His eyes widened and mouth dropped open before giving her a salacious grin.

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"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked tense with pain.

"Are you really that dull?" Molly Hooper asked, well not Molly Hooper rather what would have been Molly Hooper if he had arrived ten minutes late.

"Ah yes I am dying," he stated.

The figure in front of him rolled her eyes he thought.

"I would slap you like my living counterpart if I didn't think my hand would come off."

She was a frightful mess. Hair half gone, bleeding from where her fingertips had been filed down from scratching her way out of a bonfire. She coughed every now and then and rubbed at the side of her face that was fire marred. The other half, he supposed, had been protected by the dirt underneath her. Her clothes were tatters and her beautiful skin black and red.

"I thought Moriarty was down here?" Sherlock asked looking around the vault.

She snorted, "When was the last time you came this way? Oh right when you left we here. When you left me in the fire."

"But I didn't," Sherlock insisted, "I saved you."

"Not in your mind. How screwed up are you that even after you rescued me you killed me in your mind. Went over all the ways you could have failed. You are missing the point though," she sounded very much like Mycroft when she said that, "What am I?"

"A pathologist," he replied slowly.

"and what do I do?" she asked as if he were a child.

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed and her eyes rolled again, "You performed an autopsy on him?"

"Yes," she shrugged, "well he is dead."

"Not in my mind," he told her.

"Oh, Perhaps that is why he screamed."

"You aren't Molly," Sherlock accused, "she doesn't like screaming."

"Obviously," she sounded bored, "I am everything you despise wrapped up in your biggest fear. The way your mind works is just fantastic. Shame the world is going to lose it."

"What are you talking about?" he asked but even as he said it a ripple of pain ripped through his body and he fell to a crouching position.

"You said it. You are dying. It's not bad. Of course you'll end up on my table."

"No."

"and I'll cry and cry but I won't let anyone else take the autopsy."

"No!" he declared again fighting against the fading lights.

"Oh it isn't that bad. You won't feel a thing. You'll be dead. It's so quiet when you're dead. Oh but I will cry and Mrs. Hudson will cry maybe even Mycroft. Mummy and Daddy. The Woman. So many people will cry. John will cry buckets and buckets. It is him I worry about the most. That _wife!_"

He snapped his head up.

"Oh darn," she muttered, "I have given you a reason to live haven't I? I was so sure you would be here with me."

"I am going with you, the real you," he said.

"JOHN!" he yelled making for the stairs, "JOHN!"

"Come back soon Sherlock," she yelled, "you aren't in the clear yet!"

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He had seen John and Mary and Janine but Molly was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until he pulled himself over to the phone and called her that he got her.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed over the line. He could tell she had been crying.

"Molly," he bit out, "Where are you?"

"Can I come see you?" she asked, "I have visited a few times but I wasn't sure-"

"Molly," he interrupted, "I need to think!"

"Oh, okay Sherlock," she sounded put out, "just ring me when you-"

"Molly don't be ridiculous. I said I need to think now where are you?"

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"Oh," molly breathed and raced upstairs leaving Mike with her shift but he understood.

The room was too cheery to be Sherlock's hospital room. It looked like many others with well-wisher cards and a window facing out. The problem was it was Sherlock Holmes and he was definitely not a cheery card and sunshine guy. In fact she thought he looked a bit tanner from sitting in the window. She giggled at the thought and the man's eyes blinked open and found her. He held out a hand and she stepped in the door lacing her fingers with his. He didn't say a word and just sat absently tracing her veins for a moment causing her to shiver.

"You saved my life," he said.

"Yes," she replied carefully wondering if he had a head injury as well, "but that was some time ago."

"No just recently. You were in my mind palace."

"Oh!" she wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"You slapped me."

She full on laughed at that and Sherlock smiled tenderly at the sound.

"I am glad I left an impression," she pouted at him, "I told you to be careful."

"I know, I am sorry."

"What happened?" she whispered.

He frowned, "I need to think."

"Yes you keep saying that. What do you want me to do?"

He lifted up his sheets and pulled her to sit on the bed grunting with some effort.

"Sherlock Holmes!" she admonished.

"It's over with Janine," he whined, "and incidentally don't believe anything in the newspapers."

"Yes, but you've been shot!"

"I thought we established that yes. Problem?"

"You can't just pull me around it will cause you pain if not tear your stitches. As will cuddling by the way."

"I do not want to cuddle," he spat the word as poison, "I just want you in close proximity to focus me."

"I focus you?" she asked blushing.

"and distract me," he smirked, "but I think the former will do for now."

"You are not flirting your way into this Sherlock Holmes. You are injured."

"I have morphine."

"Which is set on low!" she saw him bite back a smile, "What are you smirking at Holmes."

"You are amusing when you are upset. Come," he motioned, "I cannot experiment, or play my violin, or shoot the walls here. I can at least share a bed with someone."

"Sherlock," Molly blushed as he raised the sheet again, "you aren't wearing pants."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, "Please Molly," he pulled out the sad eyes.

Goodness the man was a child she thought but who could resist his boyish look of pleading. She sighed and gingerly climbed into the bed with him after kicking off her shoes and socks. He snaked an arm around her frame and crossed an ankle over hers. She flushed red feeling his bare skin in contact with hers. Her head landed on his shoulder and she felt his nose nudge her head.

"Sherlock?" she rolled her head to look at his eyes above hers.

"Hmm?"

"Can you think now?"

"Yes, this is much better thank you."

She waited until she was sure he was in his mind palace before grumbling, "Well great because I very well can't in this state."

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Sherlock woke to the sound of a phone snapping a picture. He groggily raised his head to see a smirking John Watson staring at him.

"Don't tell me she is for a case too," he warned.

"No," Sherlock muttered, "She's mine."

"Really?" John raised his eyebrows.

That wasn't supposed to come out of his mouth, he thought absently. In fact a lot of things were absent thoughts right now.

"Mine." he reiterated possessively, "My Molly."

For goodness sake could he not shut his mouth?

"and when did this start?" John was trying not to laugh.

"Kissed at wedding. Friends until Janine went away. She smells nice. Like coconuts."

Something had gone wrong in surgery he was sure of it. Had he received brain trauma? Although she did smell nice and felt nice warm against his side. She had not slept much while he was unconscious and must have been exhausted by the time he asked her to sleep with him.

It was when John's eyebrows shot up that Sherlock realized he had said that all aloud.

"You drugged me!" he accused suddenly.

"The nurses said you were in pain. They were about to have Molly leave but we decided to up the morphine instead."

"I need to _think,_" he insisted, "Mary-"

"Would agree with me," John laughed, "No getting out of this. Now go back to sleep with your pathologist!"

"No," Sherlock protested then forgot what he was going to say frowning instead, "She is so tiny! Like a little, woman!"

"Yes, Greg, ahem, Lestrade is going to come visit tomorrow. He is going to love this."

John left him with some farewell as Sherlock sank further into a hazy fog. Burying his nose deeper in Molly's hair he let out a contented sigh.

"Mine," a nurse heard as she passed the door but when she looked in both occupants were asleep.

_**Love to all my readers please review if you would!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sorry for the delay. Here is a small update. Another update about this size should finish this story. I lost my original work last year in a computer crash and it has been difficult to pick up a story that I had been working on so long ago but I promise to finish this story.**_

Molly woke up to something large and hot and hard behind her, not to mention boney. Ah right! Sherlock Holmes. The man who thinks her voice is calming and her presence focusing. The man who is exciting and irritating and injured. The last one flew into her mind as she caught sight of a drip line adorning the floor. She gently tried to extricate herself from his arms but with a groan the man in question tightened his grip on the woman.

"Leave it," he told her reading her mind, "I've spent the last hour working myself free."

"Hour?"

"John came and turned the morphine up," he explained pausing, "I think. It's all kind of fuzzy."

He nuzzled his head into her neck and she giggled at the sensation of his curls.

"I'll talk to the nurses about locking that," she finally wrenched herself free.

"Molly wait," Sherlock called, "I need your help."

"What is it?" she turned around then started when she realized he was out of bed and pulling on clothes. He exposed his chest when he went to button his shirt and smirked at her gobsmacked face. She quickly returned to the present however when the bandage glared at her.

"Sherlock Holmes, what are you doing?"

"I need help getting out the window," he smirked.

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When he was brought back pale and unconscious Molly frowned. She didn't know where he had gotten off to, just that it had concerned John's safety. She spent the next two nights waiting for him to awaken and wondering if she should have helped him. Next time he asked for help getting out of this hospital she swore she would push him herself. Did the man not know about doors? When they came to ask about his bolt-holes she blushingly admitted he had stayed with her at her flat but didn't mention the three or four others he had admitted to in casual conversation. She knew he wouldn't use them anyways. He wouldn't want her to find him if something went awry.

He stirred and she rushed to his side. He blinked his eyes open and stared sleepily at her.

"They put the talking drugs on again didn't they?" he asked.

"You need morphine Sherlock," she laughed, "at least for another day or two. After you heal a bit they can switch you to another drug."

"Mary needs a friend," she told her.

Bewildered she cocked her head to one side but he just repeated his demand.

"You need to be friends with Mary," he insisted.

"Okay."

Sherlock beamed at her, "You're a good woman, my Molly. You won't be mad. Good friend. Good Molly. Good woman."

He fell asleep again with a contented smile on his face.

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It only took a minute to put two and two together when Molly met with Mary. She knew that Mary understood that she knew who shot Sherlock but tried her best to forgive her as the man himself had obviously done. Still Mary never acknowledged the fact. There was an understanding between the two from the beginning, no admissions, no apologies. Molly continued her relationship with the assassin the best she could despite the circumstances. Anyways, Mary did need a friend and Molly was indeed a good one. Between Sherlock and herself they took care of the woman in their own way. It wasn't until Christmas that her husband would reconcile with her but oh what a Christmas it was.

_**One more chapter to go. I lost my original ending in a computer crash but will finish this soon one way or another.**_


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